


Follow Me

by Cranksta



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: But Reaps is being the strong one, Going-Loco enables me, M/M, Neither of them are good around fire, PTSD, Reconciliation, Two angsty bastards with too many regrets, blind!jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 14:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11164206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cranksta/pseuds/Cranksta
Summary: Soldier: 76 gets himself into some shit as per usual.Reaper has half a mind to leave him there.For some reason, he's unable to.





	Follow Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AThousandYoung](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AThousandYoung/gifts).



> For the lovely Going-Loco (Tumblr handle) and their awesome art that can be found here. http://goingloco.tumblr.com/post/161140629644/where-are-we-going-i-have-a-very-sweet-spot
> 
> Their art is my muse when I'm feeling ill and shitty and unable to post a new chapter for my own series. (Sorry guys. It's coming I swear.)
> 
> IT'S JUST GOOD ART OKAY. AND IT DESERVES FIC. GO LOOK AT IT ALL.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

The soldier spun around in place, trying desperately to find a way out. His visor had been thrown to the floor somewhere and all he could see was the disorienting pattern of bright and dark blurry shapes moving around him. The sound of the fire overwhelmed him, keeping him from finding a safe path out of the encroaching flames. He wasn’t sure there even was one. He could still breathe, the fire far enough that the smoke was passing over completely, but the heat was getting worse. He was trapped.

He wasn’t even sure what had happened. He’d been raiding the Los Muertos warehouse undetected when he’d heard a shout and looked behind him to see a grenade hurtling towards him. He’d lobbed it back easily enough but the fucking place just _blew._ He didn’t know what the fuck he’d hit but he was sure he was the only one who’d survived- he could smell the bodies in the fire amongst all the wood and oil. He’d barely survived as is, his visor taking a direct hit from some flying debris that cracked the safety glass and destroyed its usability. He’d been plunged into shadow as the smell of fire surrounded him and he threw the shattered tech away to try and see what little he could. 

He wished he’d kept the faceplate, the smoke starting to drift into his lungs reminded him that the filters would’ve bought him some time. Too late now, and how likely was he to survive this anyway? He’d rather die of smoke inhalation than be roasted alive. For all of his sins, he didn’t deserve that kind of death did he?

He stood still, trying to hear some change in pitch of the roaring around him that would hint at an opening but it was too fucking loud. The building was crumbling and burning around him and he could feel the panic creeping up on him.

It was like Zurich all over again. Only this time, there wasn’t any escape.

The old soldier fell to his knees as the panic consumed him. He covered his ears trying to block out the sound of the flames and screamed over the din of the nightmare surrounding him.

At least his body would be unrecognizable.

\----------- 

Reaper moved quietly through the alleyways and rooftops of Dorado. Talon had sent him out to infiltrate and collect data on Lumerico’s latest operations. He wondered why Sombra hadn’t been chosen instead, but he supposed it would’ve been too risky to hack the databanks of what was technically supposed to be an ally organization. He wasn’t supposed to touch anything, just get in, look around, and get out. See if there was anything interesting worth looking into.

He stumbled as the roof shook underneath him, a loud crashing boom echoing through the night. He looked at the direction of the sound to see a dark plume of smoke billowing into the night sky a few miles outside of town. He stood for a moment before crumbling into mist and darting towards the intriguing sight.

Lumerico could wait.

\---------------- 

Reaper reformed at the edge of a mountain overlooking the center of the site. He knew of this warehouse, an old decrepit wooden thing that had been on the edge of collapse for years. Los Muertos continued to use it though, and it seems that it finally kicked them in the teeth. Keeping munitions and explosives inside a rotting wooden building was just asking for trouble. He couldn’t find any sympathy for the stupidity of it all.

Movement in the flames caught his attention as he zeroed in on a tall figure stumbling through a small clearing of debris. Seems _someone_ survived.  

As he focused, the figure spun around, displaying a bright and battered “76” for all to see.

Reaper laughed. Of course. Who else would be responsible for this shitshow? Nosy fucker just couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie.

He watched as Soldier: 76 walked hesitantly towards the wall of flames, not getting far before turning around and moving in the opposite direction. What was he doing? He could clearly see multiple escape routes even from where he was standing. Had the idiot been knocked stupid?

He saw the soldier’s shoulders shake as he coughed and fell to his knees, hands coming up over the sides of his head. 

Reaper jumped as he heard a creeping wail echo through the valley.

He moved without realizing it.

\--------------

Reaper reformed inside the circle of flames, not maybe five feet from the kneeling vigilante. He could feel the heat, the smoke clawing at him but unable to affect him. He’d expected some kind of reaction, but the silver-haired man stayed where he was, eyes closed, hands over his ears, and a distinct trembling jerking his body.

Reaper moved closer, examining the face of his enemy. He’d known that Jack was the one under the mask, but he’d never seen him without it. It brought a whole new reality to the situation. He could clearly see the scars cutting deep across his face, the aged lines around his eyes. It pulled at him in a way he tried to ignore. He used to love this man, but here they were on the opposite sides of the field. He couldn’t change it, Jack had chosen his path and he had chosen his. They would carry the yoke of their sins until the day they died. 

An urge pulled Reaper to crouch in front of the man he had once called _everything_ and reach out to him, caressing his face with one cold talon.

Jack’s eyes shot open as he flew backwards, falling onto his back as he kicked and clawed away. A pile of flaming wood crashed behind him, startling him once more as he threw himself to the side and curled up on himself, the trembling turning into spasms. It made his heart twist, seeing how terrified his enemy was. He’d never acted like this on any of their battles, he’d never seen Jack look so _helpless._ It wasn’t right. What was going on?

Jack forced himself back into a sitting position, his eyes darting around.

Reaper sucked in a breath as the soldier’s eyes ghosted over to him.

They glanced away once more as if he wasn’t even there.

Had Jack not seen him? What sort of game was he play- _oh._

He finally noticed it. How had he missed it? Jack’s eyes were clouded over, the color dull and transparent, his iris torn in his left eye where the scar passed next to it. _Jack was fucking blind._

He sat there frozen as it clicked into place. Jack couldn’t escape. He had no doubt that the man could function on his own with his condition, but with the noise and the smoke filling the air around him, he guessed that it rendered his coping skills useless. If the visor had been offering him sight all this time then maybe he hadn’t developed enough to use in the first place. He was stuck in a world of heat and roaring flames and death. 

Reaper stood. He had to leave. This wasn’t his responsibility anymore. This wasn’t The Crisis where he could just lean down and haul the hardheaded asshole out of whatever FUBAR situation he’d gotten into. They weren’t on the same side anymore. Jack had put himself in this position and if he died- then well it was just another name off his list, wasn’t it?

But as he turned away he found he couldn’t move. The image of Jack flooded his mind. Scared, helpless, desperate. It didn’t suit him. Reaper could remember what it was like to burn alive and his fists clenched as he realized he couldn’t let Jack die like that. There was still some part of him that actually gave a shit about the old bastard. He supposed he could listen to it for once.

He turned back around to see Jack gasping quietly, the smoke finally getting to him. He had to get him out of here quick before the flames got too close. Reaper looked around and walked over to the discarded pulse rifle at the edge of the flames. It would be in his best interests to leave it, but it seemed mighty unfair and wasteful to abandon such a brilliant piece of machinery. Next time he faced Jack, he wanted it to be equal. As it always had been. He reached down and dissolved the weapon into the ether where he kept his own. He’d offer it to Jack once they both made it out safely. Hopefully, he wouldn’t get a stomach full of munitions for his trouble. 

He made his way back over to the vigilante, crouching down once more in front of him.

A shout and a fist darted out at him, making solid contact with his mask and knocking him on his ass. _Well he sure as fuck saw that._  

Reaper groaned a bit before righting his head and shaking the surprise off. It hadn’t hurt him, but he was a bit taken back. Perhaps Jack wasn’t as blind as he thought.

“I know you’re there, Reaper. Come to make sure this ends how you want it to?”

_Yes actually, but not in the way you’re thinking you dense motherfucker._

_“Believe it or not, Jack, I’m here to try and help you._ ”, he growled lowly. 

“Why would I believe you?”

_“I don’t see anyone else offering to guide your blind ass out of this hellhole.”_

He fell silent, fists still raised as he closed his eyes and listened again. Whatever he heard seemed to be enough to convince him to drop his hands and nod.

“Very well.”

Reaper scoffed. He supposed that was the best he was going to get though, he hadn’t exactly expected the man to smile at him and say thank you.

_“You need to calm down, Jack. I can’t get you out of here if you panic.”_

He nodded, dropping his head to grab some oxygen and breathe as deeply as he could. After a few moments he spoke, voice a lot more clear.

“Can’t hear shit over all this noise.”

“ _You can hear me, can’t you?”_ He nodded. “ _Then follow my voice.”_

He stood, tapping the man’s shoulder to indicate where he was. With a cough, Jack stood next to him. He jumped as another pile of wood shifted and collapsed, bumping right into him and reflexively gripping his coat. He was shivering again.

“ _Just focus, boyscout. Trust me.”_  

A moment passed before he felt a tug at his arm, a trembling, gloved hand gripped lightly around his armoured wrist. He didn’t react at first, but pulled away after a minute. He didn’t need this to be more than it was. He’d guide Jack out of the burning warehouse and wherever he needed to go and then he’d leave as if nothing happened.

But as he called to the soldier and started to move away, the hand gripped at him again.

Stubborn asshole.

“Please, Gabe.” a small voice whispered quietly, barely audible over the din. 

He supposed he could allow it. It would make things easier after all.

He said nothing, just angled his hand up to indicate his agreement. Jack’s hand slid down into his and clasped firmly around it. He found himself reciprocating.

It felt nicer than he cared to admit.

He glanced around, settling on a gap about ten feet away. It seemed wide and sturdy enough to allow them safe passage. They would have to make it quick though, the building was shifting and groaning more every second. The pathway might not stay clear.

_“Let’s go.”_

He pulled the soldier along with him and Jack followed obediently without any argument. He hesitated at the edge of the flames, damaged eyes darting back and forth.

“ _There’s a gap here. We need to get moving.”_

Jack nodded and stepped uncertainly behind him, his body jerking as they reached the beginning of the pathway. He knew that everything in the old soldier’s head was telling him to stop, but he just gently tugged and coaxed him into the gap. It was hotter here, the air harder to find. He supposed if he couldn’t tell what was what and was being lead by his enemy, he’d be nervous too. With a trembling step, Jack followed him into the hallway of debris, eyes blowing wide and tapping the ground with his foot. He pulled the man closer, away from the heat of the burning wood surrounding them.

“ _See? Not a trick.”_

Jack nodded, but his body was still jerking with every step. Reaper just squeezed his hand harder and moved as slowly as he felt comfortable. They didn’t have enough time to be coddling Jack’s panic, but he knew pushing him too far would be a mistake. He didn’t want this to turn into a full episdoe. He’d seen them before, and it often ended with Jack hurting himself in some way. The last thing he needed was getting a frantic punch to the face and a flighty, blind super-soldier busting his way through a wall of fire. He did the only thing he could, readjusting his hold so he could run his thumb over Jack’s forefinger. The repetitive motion seemed to ease him somewhat.

It took longer than he would’ve liked, but eventually they reached the edge of the burning warehouse. He could tell when Jack could smell and feel the fresh air, the jitteriness becoming something more antsy and relieved than scared. They stepped out into the cool night air, Jack breathing deeply as the heat dissipated. They’d made it. 

He went to pull away from the man’s grip, but Jack held fast.

“F-fuck. I didn’t think I was gonna make it out of that one.”

_“Do you have any spares?”_ he said, ignoring the comment.

“What?”

_“Your visor. I didn’t pick it up.”_

Jack nodded. “My bike has one in the saddle bag. I parked at the edge of the fencing by the main road.”

Reaper grunted in acknowledgement. Only a bit longer and he could forget this whole thing. He could go back to his mission and scrub the feeling of warmth in his hand away along with everything else he bottled up.

Fortunately Jack remained quiet as they moved through the dirt, embers and ash swirling in the breeze around them. He looked back to see the soldier spaced out, lips parted and eyes drooping. The come-down from an anxiety attack was never a good one, and he could see it in the way Jack completely submitted to his will. There was something odd about that- Jack being relaxed enough to crash next to his enemy. He shouldn’t be.

He saw the edge of some rusted chain link fencing, a wheel peeking out from behind a bush. He was so close to being able to run away from this. His spine was tingling with the kind of festering panic that came whenever he felt things a little more than he was supposed to. He needed to leave before he thought about this too much. He dismissed the voice in his head that begged him to _take Jack home._ What home? Where? What place did either of them have anymore?

It was up to Jack to look after himself now.

_But you know he’s always been shit at it._

He moved faster, practically dragging the man behind him. It seemed to jolt Jack out of his daze at the very least. 

He brought the vigilante to the edge of the bushes, pulling him forward and letting him reach out to find the handle of his motorcycle. The smile that broke across his face was blinding.

His hand was suddenly cold as Jack let go to paw at the shrubs with both hands, pulling the old cruiser away from cover. His hands glided down the frame to the lockbox at the back, a pair of keys in his jacket opening it. He tried to ignore how empty he felt. 

Now would be a good time to leave.

He pulled the pulse rifle from the ether and nudged it against the back of the soldier. Confusion spread across his face, realization finally dawning on him as he gripped the handle.

He laughed, the sound hitting Reaper right in the chest.

“Thought I lost this in there too. Don’t know if I’d have been able to find another.”

Reaper stepped back, gathering the shadows around him to leave before Jack could pull on the new visor and see him. It would break the spell of what was happening here tonight. He didn’t want this becoming any more real than what it already was. He needed it to be forgettable.

“Hey, Gabe.”

He froze involuntarily.

“I… thanks.” he said quietly, rubbing his fingers over the surface of the new visor, not yet putting it on.

He remained silent, the subtle smile entrancing him. He used to live for that smile. He used to wake up for that smile. Why couldn’t have things gone differently? Why couldn’t have anyone listened to him before it was too late? Why couldn’t have Jack just fucking trusted him?

_You didn’t give him much reason to._

“You know. Might not be much in way of repayment, but I’ve got some old bottles of whiskey back at my hideout. Things I’ve collected along the way. Would you let me pour you a drink? Might help take some of the _edge_ off.”, he punctuated the word with a nudge and a scoff. 

It’d been a long time since anyone joked with him, even longer since Jack had joked with him. He could tell the hesitation and nervousness in his voice, but he’d asked anyway. He could remember the days where he and Jack would drink together after a mission. Never when one went bad, only when one went good, the one exception being Ana’s death. They went through three bottles that night. Tonight, something had gone _right_ and Jack wanted to share the victory with his companion like old times. 

It’d been ages. Felt like eons really.

He sucked in a deep breath. He was supposed to be long gone and scouting a Lumerico base, not entertaining the idea of reliving some history with his enemy. He reminded himself of that- Jack was his enemy now.

_Only because you made it that way._

Jack looked away, nodding as he took the silence as an answer.

“I get it, just had to ask.”

He moved closer, that same urge as before pulling him closer to the man. He lifted his mask up slightly, reaching up to cup Jack’s face in his gauntlets. He could see the vulnerability in his expression, the openness.

He leaned in, kissing Jack softly, hesitantly. He could feel the way the man reacted, a shiver and a gasp as he dropped his rifle to grip at Gabriel’s arm. They moved awkwardly against each other, a mix of nerves, crashing adrenaline, and a deep yearning for when things were simpler. 

He pulled away quickly, breathlessly. His head was buzzing.

He yanked down the edge of his mask and leaned his forehead against Jack’s firmly before speaking.

_“Raincheck, Jackie.”_

He saw the smile break across his scarred face as he dissolved away, rushing from the scene as fast as he could. What had he done?

He knew things would change. He couldn’t keep doing this anymore. He’d face Jack on the battlefield once more and he’d be unable to take the shot. Just like he’d been unable to leave him to his fate inside a burning warehouse in the middle of the desert. He was compromised, his mission was compromised. _He didn’t care._  

The feeling of Jack’s lips against his made him feel _alive._

It was something he wanted to feel again. 

He ran away, trying to push away the events of the evening. 

He had a mission to complete.

\------------------

Months later, in the cold winter air of some abandoned part of town in the American northwest, he watched as a familiar figure slipped through the night.

The figure stopped at a doorway, a bright strip of red light turned to face him as he stood in clear view on the edge of a neighboring rooftop.

An unspoken question, a moment of tense hesitation.

The old soldier slung his rifle over his shoulder and jerked his head towards the entryway before disappearing inside.

An invitation.

Gabriel let himself feel as he followed.

Jack was kneeling at his duffle, pulling out a bottle of dark liquid from deep inside.

“I don’t have any glasses. Mind sharing?”, he called out.

He shook his head, reaching up to dispose of his coat and mask.

They stripped themselves of everything that defined them as enemies, sitting at an old table in their fatigues and undershirts and passing a bottle between them in the quiet.

A truce.

Gabriel dared to hope it could be more.

 


End file.
